


Wishes

by graciecon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birthday Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graciecon/pseuds/graciecon
Summary: It’s your birthday but you couldn’t be less interested in celebrating–but that’s not stopping your boyfriend Steve, who takes it upon himself to ensure that every moment of your day is filled with exciting (and infuriating) birthday surprises.





	Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> This took a dark turn in the middle. For any of you who have lost a parent, please accept this as my disclaimer: The passing of a parent is a serious and traumatizing experience. If you feel that you will be at all triggered, please skip this fic. Other than that, enjoy the fluff and humor and smut!

It was common knowledge that Steve Rogers was bad at following orders.

Sure, he was America’s favorite soldier but he’d made a name for himself by doing the exact opposite of what everyone told him to do—and excelling at it. It wasn’t necessarily a bad quality but it made it difficult to predict what he was capable of doing at any given moment.

You should have known better than to tell him not to get you anything for your birthday. You should have known he wouldn’t listen, that he would, in fact, take it upon himself to make sure the entire Tower celebrated your birthday. You should have guessed that the minute you uttered the word “nothing” when he asked you what you wanted for your birthday that you would give him license to go completely insane preparing for a celebration that was as far from nothing as he could possibly make it.

You should have known.

But it still came as a surprise when you woke on the 27th anniversary of your birth, surrounded by balloons that were doing their best to ensure you were physically unable to leave your bed. There was so much helium in the room you wondered if your voice would sound like a chipmunk’s when you opened your mouth. You were just about to find out when the door to your bedroom slammed open and Steve walked in, carrying a cupcake with a lit candle.

“That can’t possibly be safe,” you muttered, glowering at him as he approached.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” he said happily, somehow maneuvering through the balloon maze to sit beside you on the bed. “Make your first wish of the day.”

He held the cupcake under your nose and you scowled at him, “You’re the world’s biggest dork,” you said, in a voice that implied more menace than your statement did.

“That’s hardly a wish, baby,” he said good-naturedly. “Go on, wish for something.”

You rolled your eyes then closed them, leaned forward and thought, I wish this day would go by quickly then huffed a breath and blew out the candle. Your eyes snapped back open when you felt Steve’s finger smear frosting on the tip of your nose.

“Steve!” you snapped, wiping your nose more viciously than was necessary. He laughed and scooped more frosting onto his finger, this time smearing it on your lips.

“What the fu—,” you started to say but Steve silenced you by leaning forward and licking the frosting off your mouth, then pulling you into a kiss. When he released you, your head spun a bit, the combination of sugar and Steve’s mouth a heady concoction.

You pouted at him involuntarily and he moved to kiss you again but you were ready this time.  
In one swift motion, you bumped the hand holding the cupcake upwards, causing Steve to hit himself square in the face with it. The resulting image, of Steve Roger’s handsome features covered in pink frosting, had you rolling onto your side, laughing breathlessly. Steve set the remaining cupcake on your night stand then moved to tackle you, covering your body with his and rubbing his frosted face on yours. You shrieked and squirmed but he didn’t let up until most of the frosting had transferred from him to you. Then he proceeded to pin you down and kiss the frosting off of you, while rolling his hips against yours and making you forget momentarily that it was your birthday or what day of the week it was, or honestly your name because you could feel his erection rubbing against you in just the right way and if he kept up this pace you were pretty sure you were gonna—

“Time to get up!” Steve said suddenly, standing up while you floundered desperately on the bed. You propped yourself up and glared at him, your face flushed and your legs spread slightly, so that, despite the expression on your face you still looked like you were down to get fucked into the mattress if Steve were so inclined.

“Steven, if you don’t get back here right now—,” you said but Steve shook his head.

“Nuh-uh, birthday girl,” he said teasingly and the singsong tone of his voice made you grit your teeth. “Rules are you gotta get outta bed for your other presents.”

“The only present I want right now is in your pants, Steve.”

He gave you a devilish grin and crawled back onto the bed until his hands were planted on either side of your head and you could feel his warm breath in the hollow of your throat. You whimpered softly and reached up to pull him down to you but he resisted. He tilted his head and licked the shell of your ear, nibbling on the earlobe before whispering, “Is that what you wished for, babygirl? For me to give you my cock?”  
You shivered at his words, the effect of Captain America whispering filthy things to you undeniable based on the abundant wetness between your legs. You rolled your hips up and found him hard and heavy in his jeans. He groaned softly and sat back, placing his hands on your hips and hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he said and his voice was gruff and his eyes were dark and you could hardly remember what you’d been talking about, much less his question so you said, “Huh?”

“Did you wish for my cock? Is that what you want for your birthday?”

His fingers grazed your hipbones just beneath the fabric of your pajamas and you whined desperately but Steve continued to hold you in place.

“Tell me, doll or I can’t make your wish come true.”

He leaned over and sucked your lower lip into his mouth, pushing his tongue past your lips and pulling you into a bruising kiss. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, eager to feel him flush with your body but dammit if he wasn’t too strong for his own good—for your own good—and he broke your embrace easily and sat back again.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I didn’t technically wish for your cock,” you said slowly, reaching forward to rub his dick through his jeans. He grunted softly before stilling your hand by grabbing your wrist.

“What did you wish for?”  
You sighed. “For this day to be over with quickly.”

Steve pouted. “That’s a damn shame, sugar plum. That’s not a wish I can grant you.”

He slid back off the bed and walked to the bedroom door, slightly adjusting himself before pulling it open. “Maybe next time you get offered a wish, you’ll wish for something good.”

And he left you sitting on your bed, wet and frustrated and smelling like cake frosting.

 

After a long (and very cold) shower, you threw on a pair of jeans and your favorite Ironman t-shirt (payback’s a bitch, Rogers), popped a few of the indiscriminate amount of balloons blocking your exit, and sauntered into the kitchen to eat something that wasn’t cake.

Of course, that was quickly derailed as a loud, obnoxious chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ serenaded you over the intercom speakers. You could distinctly make out Tony, Natasha, Sam and Bucky along with, you were pretty sure, F.R.I.D.A.Y and you pressed your hands over your ears until the singing stopped.

“All of you keep your day jobs,” you shouted at nothing. “You’re all tone deaf.”

A chuckle behind you made you turn on the spot. Clint. You sighed in relief. If there was one thing you could count on, it was Barton being too much of a sourpuss to want to annoy you with celebrating your birthday.

“So I guess you’re an old woman now, huh?”

“I suppose,” I said, shrugging. “Takes one to know one, right?”

Clint scoffed and sat down at the island counter. “Be nice, or I won’t give you my gift.”

“Your what?” you spluttered, spitting out the swig of water you’d just taken. Clint guffawed on his stool, slamming his hand on the countertop.

“Oh, man,” he wheezed. “That was classic.”

“Shove it, Barton,” I snapped, wiping my mouth and airing out my now soaked t-shirt. As luck (or lack thereof) would have it, Steve chose that very opportunity to walk into the room, a giant bouquet of red roses in his hands.

“What the fuck is that, Steve?”

“I think they’re called flowers, doll,” he said, setting them down on the counter and eyeing them with mock curiosity. “What do you call them?”

“Unwelcome,” you said, clenching your fists at your side. “What part of ‘no gifts’ escapes your understanding?”

“I’d say the ‘no’ part, probably,” Clint said through a mouthful of smirk. You aimed a punch at his well-toned arm, the cursed when you ended up hurting yourself more than him.

“Easy there, spitfire,” Clint said, getting up off his stool. “She’s all yours, Rogers.”

Steve walked over to you as you nursed your throbbing hand. “Lemme see,” he said gently and you were tempted to say no but he pulled you against his chest and held your hand in his gingerly, bringing it up to his lips for a kiss.

“Feel better?”

“Well, no, considering kisses aren’t medicine.”

“You don’t think,” Steve said. “But I bet I can make you feel a lot better with just my mouth.”

You looked up at him and he wasn’t smirking. He was dead serious and you felt all the heat in your body pool between your thighs.

“I think we should test that theory,” you said, running your good hand down his shirt front, feeling the powerful ripple of his abs. “For science.”

“Do you?” Steve murmured back. “I didn’t know you were such a science aficionado.”

He locked his arms behind you, keeping you pressed to his chest.

“Oh yeah,” you whispered back, standing on tiptoe. “I’m all about science. Especially anatomy.”

You locked your mouth with his, pushing a hand through his hair. His fingers pressed into your waist, slotting his hips to yours and groaning openly into your mouth. You reached down to pull the hem of your t-shirt up when the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat froze you, mid-strip.

Steve took a step back and turned his head, keeping his arms around your waist.

“I’d rather she leaves the shirt on,” Tony said wryly. “I mean, it’s a great shirt. No reason to take it off.”

Steve looked back at you and grinned. You didn’t know who to scowl at more so you opted for whipping your rage-fueled gaze between both of them.

“You knew he was coming in here, didn’t you?” you accused Steve.

He withdrew his arms from your waist and placed his hands in his pockets. “Are you asking if I knew that at approximately nine-thirty every morning Tony comes into the kitchen for coffee?”

You didn’t answer, continuing to glare at him.

“Because I would say that’s pretty widely-known and wouldn’t technically mean that I had created this particular situation on purpose.”

“That’s exactly what it means!”

“I’m hurt, Y/N,” Steve said, strolling away from you towards the bouquet of flowers. “Do you really think I would set you up for disappointment on your birthday?”

He picked up the bouquet and brought it to you, shoving into your hands. “These are for you,” he said unnecessarily.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Rogers,” you growled, pushing the stalks of roses out of your face, “but I will not indulge you. So you’ll be playing with yourself.”

You turned on heel and began to walk out of the room, ignoring Tony’s quiet chuckling. Steve was silent until you reached the doorway.

“I could say the same for you, dollface.”

He didn’t see your responding grimace.

 

Steve steered clear of you for the rest of the morning, though you suspected that was more because he was planning something extravagantly irritating than because he was giving you a wide berth. You returned to your bedroom after scarfing down your breakfast, pushed the remaining balloons still crowding the room out into the hallway, and sank onto your bed to drown yourself in Netflix binging.

You were halfway through a re-watch of Supernatural when someone knocked on your door. You paused the episode you were watching and pulled the door open then immediately slammed it shut.

“Come on, Y/N!” Sam Wilson shouted on the other side. “You made Steve promise, not the rest of us.”

You wrenched the door back open. “It was a blanket request, Sam.”

He was holding a large wrapped gift box and another pink-frosted cupcake, with a single lit candle. He stepped inside the room before you had the chance to shut the door on him again and set the box on the bed. He turned back to you and held out the cupcake.

“You gotta make another wish.”

“I do not,” you said obstinately.

“Rules are rules, Y/N.”

“I would like to speak to the birthday rule-maker please. I need to lodge a complaint.”

“Steve!” Sam called, a grin on his face. “She wants to lodge a complaint with you.”

Your boyfriend walked into the room, a matching grin on his face. “Yes?”

“This needs to stop, Steve. I told you I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday. Why can’t you respect that?”

Steve regarded you carefully, then took the cupcake from Sam’s hands. “I’ll take it from here, Sam.”

Sam nodded and winked at you before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

“Sit with me?” Steve asked gently. You conceded, sinking on the edge of the bed beside him. He held the cupcake out to you.

“You gotta blow out the candle at least.”

“Why can’t you?” You knew you were being mildly ridiculous but you didn’t care.

“C’mon baby,” Steve pouted. “It’s bad luck for someone else to blow out your birthday candles.”

“Is that another made-up rule?”

He grinned at you and you rolled your eyes, leaned forward and huffed out the candle. Steve set the cupcake in his lap, his hands wrapped around its base.

“Talk to me,” he said, piercing you with his blue-green eyes. “Why are you so against me celebrating your birthday?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Well, I do,” Steve said simply. “So I need a better explanation.”

You stared down at your lap for a long while until you felt Steve’s hand cup your chin and lift your face.

“You can tell me whatever it is. I promise.”

You took a deep breath. “When I was little, my mom would do something special for me for every birthday. She thought birthdays were so important, that celebrating every year of life was our way of letting the universe know how much we appreciated being a part of it.”

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes and you lifted your hand to rub them away. “My mom died when I was eighteen.”

Steve nodded. “So did mine.”

“After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate. It hurt too much. She had loved life so much and it felt…wrong to celebrate it when she couldn’t.”

Steve was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was low.

“I felt that way for a while after I came out of the ice. Everyone I knew was dead. It wasn’t fair that I wasn’t. I was angry. I didn’t want to enjoy the extra time I’d been given. Why did I deserve it when they didn’t? It made no sense to me.”

“What changed?”

“Two things. I realized that just because it was unfair didn’t mean it wasn’t necessary. That maybe there was something I was here to do.”

“And the other thing?”

“You,” Steve said, smiling. “I met you and I started to not feel so unhappy that I was alive. I started to feel grateful. If I hadn’t been frozen, if I hadn’t woken up—I would never have met you. And that wasn’t an alternative I was prepared to accept.”

You knew you were blushing and you felt a bit silly but Steve’s words were so sincere that they filled you with warmth.

“You’re so corny,” you mumbled but you leaned over to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. He turned his head and pulled you into a deeper kiss, all tongue and the press of his plush mouth with yours. When he released you, he leaned his forehead against yours, his breathing a bit shallow.

“I’m happy you’re alive,” he said quietly.

“Ditto.”

“I think your mom would want you to keep celebrating,” Steve murmured. “I think she’d want you to appreciate the life you have.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I usually am.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“I’ve got something planned for tonight,” Steve spoke hesitantly, gauging your expression. “Will you indulge me just a little longer?”

“What is it?”

“A surprise,” Steve said cryptically. “But this is the first clue.”

He lifted the box Sam had set on the bed and placed it in your lap.

“This is from you too?” You frowned at him.

“Technically, yes. Although I had Nat’s help with this one.”

You untied the large bow holding the box closed and lifted the lid. After sifting through several layers of tissue paper, you found the box’s contents—a beautiful, glittering black cocktail dress.

It had thin straps and a deep V neckline, with an empire waist and a flowing, pleated skirt. The bodice was covered in tiny beads that shimmered when the dress moved in the light. You looked at Steve incredulously.

“Who are you, Christian Grey?”

“I don’t understand that reference,” he replied mildly. “Do you like it?”

I glanced back at the dress. “Yes,” I said grudgingly.

“Good. Nat said you should see her for shoes and accessories. Be ready at 8 o’clock. Meet me in the common room.”

He stood up and set the cupcake on your dresser. “Did you make a wish for this one?”

You raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed. “It was worth a try. 8 o’clock. Don’t be late.”

“Yes sir, Captain.”

He shot you a look, his eyes darkening ever so slightly before he left the room.

 

Natasha smirked at you when you walked into her room at seven-thirty that night, wearing the dress. Her face fell slightly when she noticed that your hair was piled on top of your head in a messy bun and that you were wearing no makeup.

“We have to get you ready in half an hour!” she snapped, grabbing your arm and pushing you into her vanity chair. “If you’re late, you tell Steve it’s your fault.”

She went to work on your face and hair and you had the strong urge to lift your arms to bat her away but you sat patiently while she worked. When she was done, she twirled you towards the mirror and you bit your lip at the image that greeted you.

You looked like you but enhanced. Your cheeks were blushed pink and your lips were rosy and your eyelashes looked significantly longer and darker. Your hair fell down around your face and over your shoulders. You frowned at your reflection and jumped when you felt Natasha pinch you lightly.

“No frowning. You’ll ruin my masterpiece.”

“I look like a Barbie doll.”

“You look beautiful.”

“I feel like I’m in the Princess Diaries.”

“Good.”

“I’m gonna start calling you Julie Andrews.”

“Steve wanted you to be pampered today and have you ever argued with Captain America? It’s maddening. I’m just doing my part.”

“What is he planning?”

“You’ll see,” she said in a singsong voice. “Now get out. I have to get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Go!”

You left her room, adjusting the dress and finding your balance on the heels she’d let you borrow. You took the elevator down to the common room, working consciously to keep yourself from licking off the gloss on your lips.

When the elevator doors opened, you had to resist the strong urge to slam the ‘close’ button and disappear back upstairs but Steve’s eyes kept you grounded and you walked forward and took the hand he held outstretched to you.

The entire team—except for Natasha—stood in the room, each holding a pink, lit cupcake. The room was dark, except for the flickering dots of each cupcake candle, spread out around the area.

“Am I joining a cult or something?” you asked apprehensively.

Steve grinned at her. “You get a wish for each of cupcake. I initially wanted to do 27 wishes, one for each year, but Tony said, and I quote, ‘There aren’t enough people for 27 cupcakes or enough hours in the day for her to think up 27 wishes.’ You can blame him.”

You mouthed an over-the-top thank you at Tony, who winked at you. You looked back at Steve.

“Do I really have to do this?”

We talked about this, Y/N.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. I was hoping you’d changed your mind.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But I’d like to make at least one of your birthday wishes come true.”  
You studied his face, illuminated in the soft glow of the cupcake candle and felt a bit like the Grinch, whose heart was suddenly expanding at an alarming rate. You only had one wish and he was standing right in front of you. So you nodded again and walked around him and started with Tony, who was standing at the back of the room. You blew out his candle and thought as hard as you could, I wish to spend the rest of my birthdays with Steve. You walked from Avenger to Avenger, blowing out candles and wishing the same wish until you had circled the room and were standing where you’d started, face-to-face with Steve.

“I wish to spend the rest of my birthdays with you,” you whispered and blew out the candle in front of him. The lights came back on and Natasha walked out of the kitchen holding the biggest cake you’d ever seen, made up of at least fifty pink cupcakes. The team broke out into the most off-key rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ you’d ever heard and you couldn’t help but giggle when Sam and Bucky ended with an operatic “and many mooooore….”  
Tony had planned a much bigger party but Steve had insisted he keep it casual, just us and the team and you were eternally grateful. There was karaoke and lots of tequila and by the end of the night, most of the Avengers were drunk or asleep. Steve sat beside you on the makeshift “throne” Tony had made for you, holding your hand and grinning like an idiot.

“So, was this the worse thing ever?” he asked, reaching a hand up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If I say yes, will I not get my last present?”

“Your last present?”

“The one in your pants.”

Steve laughed loudly, jolting Bucky out of his slumber.

“Keep it down, punk,” he mumbled then collapsed back onto Natasha’s lap, where he’d passed out earlier.

“That depends,” Steve said, standing and leading you by the hand to the elevators. “Did you wish for that?”

“I wished to spend every birthday with you,” you said matter-of-factly. “That includes your penis.”

Steve smirked and pulled you against him, walking you backwards into the elevator car. “Well then, your wish is my command, ma’am.”

His mouth bruised yours in a heated kiss and he pushed his hands into your hair, ruining all of Natasha’s hard work. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him harder against you, desperate to feel every inch of him. His hands slid down your shoulders, brushed the sides of your breasts and landed on your hips, pulling the fabric of your dress up along your thighs. You broke away from the kiss, panting slightly.

“We should probably not have sex in this elevator,” you gasped as he moved his mouth to your neck, leaving bites along your skin that were sure to leave marks. “Tony has cameras in here.”  
Steve groaned against your throat, rolling his hips against yours. “I need you now,” he growled.

“Well, this is my floor,” you said, trying to remain composed despite the way he was running his hands over your body and the small ring of blue surrounding the black in his eyes. “So you can have me once we’re in my bedroom.”

Steve tugged you impatiently from the elevator and into your room, kicking the door closed behind him and nudging you onto the bed.

“Take the dress off,” he said, his voice low and saturated with lust.

“Yes sir, Captain,” you said, in a half-moan. The look he’d given you earlier when you’d spoken those words returned, only this time his careful composure was gone and grabbed your waist and tugged you down so that your legs were dangling off the side of the bed. He pushed the hem of your dress up and out of the way and pulled your lace panties down.

“You didn’t even comment on my underwear,” you pouted from above him. “I picked them out just for you.”

“They look wonderful,” he said, pressing one finger to your aching clit. “On the floor.”

You jerked your hips into his hand and moaned loudly. “Captain, please…”

“What do you want, babygirl?” He leaned forward and licked into your folds, humming at the taste of you. “Damn, beautiful, you taste as good as you look.”

“Steve,” you whined, rolling your hips, begging for more. He pinned your hips down and removed his mouth from your heat.

“You call me Captain, young lady or I’ll leave you like this—all wet and open and desperate for my cock. Is that what you want?”

“No sir,” you said, smirking slightly.

“No, Captain,” he corrected, raising an eyebrow at you.

“No, Captain,” you moaned purposely.

You heard Steve groan again and dip his head back down to push his tongue inside you, his fingers back on your clit, rubbing tight little circles as he fucked you with his tongue. You couldn’t move your hips, he was holding you down so tightly but you let him know exactly what you wanted anyway, moaning and gasping his name, begging him to not stop, right there, holy fuck—  
Your orgasm caught you by surprise. Your back arched off the mattress and your hips jerked hard against Steve’s mouth as he licked you through it, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. Your breathing was ragged, your chest rising and falling rapidly and

Steve pulled himself up your body and pressed his mouth to yours. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue and your hands went to his shirt, pulling hard at the fabric until it tore and the buttons popped off, bouncing on the bed and onto the floor. Steve didn’t seem to mind; he tugged the rest of the shirt off and undid his jeans, pushing them down. You let him pull your pretty dress off you and his lips turned up in a smirk when he saw that you had opted for no bra.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he growled, cupping both breasts in each hand, brushing his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. “And all mine.”

“I am offended by that language, Captain,” you sighed as he leaned down to pull one nipple into his mouth. “It’s very unbecoming.”

He bit the flesh of your breast and you yelped. “You keep sass-mouthin’ me and that’ll be the least of your problems.”

You giggled. “Yes sir, Captain.”

He pulled your nipple back into his mouth and placed his hands on your waist, lining your hips up so that he could grind his clothed length along your drenched slit. Your hands found his hair and you pulled, moaning indignantly at the lack of something, anything that you needed him to give you. You rolled your hips to meet his and his dick found your clit and the friction sent bolts of heat racing through your veins.

“Fuck, Steve,” you groaned and cried out when he nipped at your breast again. “Captain, sorry,” you mumbled.

Steve pulled his mouth from your chest and glanced down at the growing patch of dark fabric on his crotch.

“Look how fucking wet you are,” he grunted. “Do I make you this wet baby?”

“Yes, Captain,” you said and even you were surprised at how wrecked you sounded. “Can I please have your cock inside me now?”

Steve grinned and pulled his underwear off, his thick, impressive cock slapping against his abs, smearing pre-come where it landed.

“You can have whatever you want when you ask like that, princess.”

“Please Captain, I need your big cock in my pussy,” you said wantonly. “I need it, pretty please.”

The sound Steve made was somewhere between choking and growling and he lined himself up with your aching cunt and sank into you in one hard thrust. You felt yourself clench around him immediately and Steve buried his face in your neck, his hands gripping your hips so tight you knew there’d be bruises there to match the marks he’d left on your throat. The thought made you clench around him again and he whined.

“Baby, you keep that up and I won’t last very long,” he sighed.

“Then you better start fucking me, Captain,” you said teasingly.

His teeth found the skin of your neck again and you whimpered as he began thrusting into you at a punishing pace, his hips snapping hard, balls slapping against your ass. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he tilted you back further into the pillows so he could properly fuck you into the mattress. The sounds of skin on skin filled the room, mingled with your heavy gasping and Steve’s groans. Your climax built steadily, the sounds of desperation and pleasure spilling from Steve’s mouth pushing you further down the rabbit hole. You knew he was close when he started talking, the filthiest things imaginable dropping from his pretty plush lips.

“God, your pussy feels so fucking good on my cock,” he gasped. “You’re so goddamn tight, baby, just wanna fuck you all the time, feel how tight and wet you are for me, jesus fucking Christ—”

“Steve, god, please don’t stop,” you cried out and he slid his hand between you and pressed two fingers to your clit.

“You gonna come for me, babygirl? Gonna come all over my cock?”

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

You came hard, white spots blurring your vision. You tossed your head back and screamed and your pussy tightened around Steve, pulling him down into his orgasm too. He cursed as he flooded you with his release, hips jerking, fingers digging into your waist as he held himself inside you.

The smell of sex was thick in the air and you struggled to find air as you came down. Steve was trembling above you as he pulled his cock out of you, a trail of cum trickling down your thighs.

“Fuck me,” Steve groaned, his eyes following the sight of his release between your legs.

“I think I just did,” you rasped and Steve shook his head, getting up to find something to clean up with. He brought back a warm washcloth and gently applied it to your thighs then threw it in the hamper in the corner of your room. You pulled back the covers on the bed and he climbed in, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Best birthday ever, right?” he said, grinning against your hair.

“Well, it definitely made the top five,” you said nonchalantly. Steve tightened his grip on you warningly.

“Where did it rank on that list?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He kissed you hard, leaving you temporarily breathless and speechless, which you suspected was his intention.

“I love you,” he murmured as you rested your head against his chest.

“I know.”

“I understood that reference,” he deadpanned. You laughed.

“You’re learning, young Padawan.”

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said and you let out a deep, contented sigh. You’d hardly ever admit it aloud—Steve was insufferable enough when he was right—but it had been your best birthday in nine years. As you drifted to sleep in Steve’s arms, you felt certain it was the first of many to come.


End file.
